Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,37
to worry." I smiled. "And now we don't need to. So that's good news."
Mom still wasn't smiling. "But you still should've said something."
"I would've," I said. "But I figured I'd first try to find a replacement. And I did. So we're all set. You see what I mean, right?"
"No. I don't see." She gave me a no-nonsense look. "If you've got bad news, I shouldn't have to hear it from Ginger Hawthorne."
Oh.
Right. Ginger. And don't get me started on Emory.
I grumbled, "Yeah, well maybe Ginger shouldn't have gotten all blabby."
"Or maybe," my mom said, "my own daughter should've told me the bad news herself."
I winced. "I know. But I was just thinking, if I solved it, no one else would need to panic, that's all."
My mom sighed. "Boy is Ginger gonna love this."
I wasn't following. "Love what?"
With a grimace, she said, "I'll have to apologize. You do know that, right?"
Crap. I hadn't thought about it, but now, I saw what she meant.
My mom was a real stickler about such things. It was one of the many things I loved about her. She wasn't afraid to say she was sorry, even to people she didn't particularly like.
I could only imagine what she'd said to Ginger.
Earlier, on the phone, she'd given me only the highlights. But if I knew my mom, things had gotten a little feisty.
And of course, my mom wasn't the only one who needed to apologize. But in my case, the person who deserved an apology was actually worth it.
I looked to my mom and said, "I really am sorry. I didn't realize anyone else knew – about the bank, I mean."
"It shouldn't matter," my mom said. "You should have told me regardless." She and my dad shared a look. "You should have told all of us."
She was probably right. But didn't she get it? I'd wanted to deliver a solution, not more problems. Heaven knows the festival had enough of those already.
And now, I wanted to celebrate, not focus on the bad stuff. "I know. But now we have Blast Tools. And they'll be a perfect sponsor." I summoned up another smile. "Come on. This is good news. And I literally just found out."
My parents shared another look, but said nothing.
I tried again, this time with more pep. "And I heard it from Chase Blastoviak himself."
My dad frowned. "Wait a minute. You don't mean the guy from Blast? He was the guy who drove you home?"
I nodded. "Yup, that was him, alright." Maybe I should've mentioned it sooner, but I'd been so excited about the sponsorship itself, I hadn't thought to tell them who specifically had given me the good news.
Too late, it struck me that my parents might have wanted to meet him. I mean, it wasn't every day a celebrity showed up on their doorstep – or in this case, in their driveway.
My dad was still frowning. "He didn’t put the moves on you, did he?"
I blinked. "Chase? No. Of course not." I didn't bother explaining why.
Apparently, Chase found me repugnant, so repugnant that he'd rejected me outright the first time we'd met, even in spite of the fact that I'd never offered.
How humiliating was that?
In cheerier news, I didn't want him putting the moves on me.
Oh sure, he looked pretty, and he could be surprisingly charming when he wasn't being a jackass. But pretty bad boys had never been my thing.
And besides, I had no interest in a social disease, festering or otherwise. If the rumors were true, the guy really did get around.
Looking more disgruntled than ever, my dad said, "Chase. That's what you're calling him?"
I hesitated. "Well, it is his name."
"So you're on a first-name basis, huh?" He said this like it was a bad thing.
"Actually," I replied, "I'm not quite sure."
"Why not?"
I tried to think. "Well…I guess it's because I haven't addressed him by any name." It was true. And there was a reason for this. Chase had done nothing to indicate we were on a first-name basis. And yet, calling him "Mister Blastoviak" felt just a little bit silly.
My dad said, "Oh yeah? And what does he call you?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I mean, he hasn't said my name either."
My dad stared toward the driveway, as if he had X-ray vision, and wasn't liking what he saw. "Well, if he calls you sweet-cheeks or anything like that, you get the hell outta there."
Sweet-cheeks? I couldn’t help but laugh. "Out of where?"
"Wherever," he said. "The guy's trouble. You be careful."